I was tall, and aching. His city reached up from the earth to meet me an hour before sunrise. What a perfect labyrinth of highways - the same city that raised my father, the city that taught me not to cry. My teeth were grinding.
By Novak Brei3 years ago in Viva
I stand before a work of dust and faith, air and water, iron and earth, The Word and its echoes. Generations of steel, refined in the fire.
By Novak Brei3 years ago in Poets